


Hesitation to No Regrets

by CinnarollProtector



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #SecretSantaHaikyuu2019, Fantasy, Iwazumi didn't sign up to babysit the hostage uh visiting prince, M/M, Prince Oikawa, Slow Burn, look they don't kiss but I'll probably write more because i love this idea, maki and matsu are in it if you squint, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22155100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnarollProtector/pseuds/CinnarollProtector
Summary: Iwazumi was just trying to get out of paper work. That's all. He didn't sign up for babysitting duty of their spoiled hostage-er, visitor.Aka the one where Oikawa is a captured prince and Iwazumi gets stuck being his personal servant, idk I'm bad at descriptions y'all
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 137





	Hesitation to No Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my secret santa, Wutimuti on twitter. I hope you enjoy it! I'm so sorry it took so long, I really appreciate you being patient with me through all of it. I'll probably wind up writing more of this because now I have a million and one scenarios in my head of fantasy based IwaOi

In the beginning Iwazumi had been reluctant, he had lost a bet after all and the rumors that he had heard did not provide any sense of comfort. 

He remembered the early days of it all, how the fort of a castle had buzzed with excitement when the raven came in carrying a message from one of the generals. Whispers turned into loud gossip that nearly everyone participated in. Someone from the opposing kingdom had been captured near one of the front lines, but not just anyone, a member of the royal family. 

Everyone had their own reasons to be excited. Members of the court flounced themselves up, not knowing who exactly had been taken prisoner, the fact that the current king had no heir giving anyone the chance to potentially be married to a royal for the sake of a treaty. Knights and the other members of the army puffed up their chests, surely, they would be awarded new land and titles once the opposing kingdom was absorbed into their own. The soldiers and workers merely crossed their fingers and whispered prayers of luck that their friends and loved ones might return home sooner than expected instead of joining countless others in a large pit.   
Despite their different reasons the same hope bloomed in everyone’s’ chests. The war would at long last soon be ending. 

Iwazumi had nearly slapped Hanamaki to make sure he wasn’t dreaming when the day finally came, the large convoy was unmistakable and would only be in that formation for one reason alone. Shoulders bumped and necks craned as servants and nobles alike flocked to windows and doors. The horde was one large mass of eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse at which member of the Oikawa family would emerge from the fortified carriage.

Feigning disinterest Iwazumi had let his men drag him along, posture rigid and eyes looking a bit too wandering to be convincing, but really who wouldn’t want to see which royal was stepping out of that metal box? 

The chorus of giggles and gasps were the drumroll as Iwazumi at last turned his head, he could see wide eyes all around him along with confused questioning ones. It wasn’t until Matsukawa muttered under his breath that he whipped his sights forward. 

“Shit, is that the crown prince?” 

Low and behold it had been the heir to the throne, eldest son and successor of the Oikawa name, his Highness Prince Tooru Oikawa himself.   
Iwazumi carried a shame within himself that his first thought abandoned his whole life of military training from age five. He didn’t question how the crown prince was captured, wonder what kingdom let the heir get that close to front lines, or even how this gave the impression of a speedy treaty now that they had the sole Oikawa son. Instead his traitorous mind had fizzled out into nothingness except for one word. 

Pretty. 

Not even a second letter though he had shaken out the thought and a scowl had taken root. Because what kind of absolute dumbass of a royal-no heir apparent to the throne got themselves captured by fucking opposing enemy forces? 

Try as he may to pick up on an answer from anyone in the arriving brigade, it seemed like no one knew the truth and that just furthered Iwazumi’s irritation. He had half a mind one night to march up to the fifth northwest tower and demand ‘his royal dumbass answer how he could have been so naively stupid’ as Hanamaki and another jug of ale cheered him on, unfortunately though Matsukawa had rained on that parade much to the chagrin of many inebriated soldiers.Then fate had laughed at Iwazumi one night, deciding to intervene and give him an answer one way or another. 

A group had formed up after the days duties had been completed and food scarfed down. In a routine gathering that was customary for every first week of the month, in other words assignment week, cards and dice were drawn out and a circle formed. Instead of money or items being tossed around as wagers only knives were tossed into the makeshift ring, their unique markings signaling that their owner was participating. It was a sure fire way of keeping track of who entered a match, preventing any losers from skimping out on their new additional tasks-because money had no place in the games tonight, only unwanted duties that had been assigned for the next month. 

It was all going well, Hanamaki had been pleased to ditch his duty of escorting Lady Minumi on her morning rides-no he wasn’t scared of horses, he just had ‘a healthy respect for something that could kill me with a single kick, Mattsun. A single kick! I’ve seen it!’-and was gloating as he continued to win again again. At this rate he was going to spend the next month sleeping.

“Someone needs to take you down a peg, ‘Maki.”   
“By someone do you mean you, Matsu?” 

Matsukawa had merely shook his head with a snort and taken another swig of ale. Iwazumi though at last made his move. He had waited for a majority of the bets to get done with, or more specifically until a large number of the men before him and finished their third drink. His knife clattered and joined the others in the pit as attention briefly turned to him for his offering of a bet. 

“Paper work detail.” 

Hope filled the eyes of the newest members at the announcement. With winter approaching having paper detail would be a dream. Inside and not fearing half your toes would wind up biten by frost, it was a golden opportunity. 

“Let me guess, Lord Ootori?” 

Hope turned to despair in a flash at Hanamaki’s guess. Knives that were half way out of their sheaths instantly slid back in and eyes skittered around the room, no one was desperate enough to stay inside if it had to be with him. 

“Oh c’mon, it’s not that bad.” 

“Right, and that’s why you’re trying to offload it-because the chief of the treasury is such a peach to work with.” 

Iwazumi had just about lost all hope when the sound of metal on stone jerked his attention back up. 

“Princess sitting.” 

“Iwazumi don’t, it’s not worth it-” “Bring it on, Kindaichi.” 

Kindaichi did in fact bring it, and as a result Iwazumi was stuck with both unpleasant, and headache inducing, tasks. 

Maybe if he spat on a noble he’d get demoted to the front lines and he could escape this hellish month. Damn Hanamaki, how did the bastard even get rid of all of his assignments-he had to be cheating. Which is just wrong, but it’d be less wrong if he at least shared his slight of hand knowledge with Iwazumi.

The princess referred to none other than the Oikawa royal himself because oh yes, he was definitely still at the fort. The shiny newness from weeks ago when they first started holding him hostage-er, hosting him as some of the higher ups claimed, had quickly varnished. Within the first day of his residency the heir had built up a reputation of being a royal pain in the ass. Hell, he even stabbed his first assigned guard. 

Well, stab was a bit overly dramatic. He had jammed a dinner fork into the man’s hand before running out into the corridor only to be caught one story down.   
Following that he had made one of the head seamstresses cry by tearing apart some of the finest linens they had crafted from their own spun threat to make a sorry excuse of a rope. A rope which was way too short and the idiot had to hang five stories from the ground while a passing vanguard rushed up six flights of stairs to drag him back in before people began singing humpty dumpty. 

As time went on the prince’s attempts at escape grew more and more pathetic. With it becoming increasingly clear that he wasn’t going to be able to break his way out with force he attempted bribery, picking his rooms lock (which only broke it and the idiot wound up trapped for a day without food because it took the smith ages to figure just what the hell he had done to break the damn door), and other rather sad attempts.

Now he had resigned himself to expressing his displeasure at being captured by becoming an insufferable thorn in the side. Sending food back, asking for new bed linens, demanding this and that-and of course whatever guard was stuck with the bastard had to obey.   
Even if he was technically a prisoner of war he was still royal and the heir, which meant he had to be kept in good spirits or any peace treaty could be kissed good bye. It wouldn’t be worth it to have something drawn up only for the war to start once again after the king learned of how his son had been treated-though maybe he knew how much of a brat his son was and would understand.

Anyways, without that confirmation the unfortunate lackeys who were chosen always got a lecture of tolerance and some other bullshit. It was a speech Iwazumi had been fortunate enough to never listen to as he had managed to avoid meeting the Oikawa royal till now, afterall with his reputation he had no desire to do so.   
So yes, he had been reluctant to start his new job.  
Each step up that long staircase seemed to send him closer and closer to a headache, and it definitely had.   
Chefs, maids, guards-multiple staff members could pick an array of words to describe the man on the other side of that heavy wooden door that sported a brand new lock. Chefs cursed him for constantly sending back food, the rations of what they had available were already limited and catering to his exotic tastes were nothing but a rage filled challenge. Maids either loved him or hated him, there was no between. He was annoyingly charming, his face almost always had a smirk or smile. His compliments were tossed around freely, flirtatiously. 

The flirting wouldn’t have been that bad if it was just on occasion, but the man seemed to talk to anything with a pulse. Then there was the fact that he was so overly confident, the bastard knew he was good looking. Iwazumi had reluctantly realized that his previous thought of pretty upon first seeing the prince had been incorrect. The word was too simple, not at all extravagant enough for Oikawa.

Oikawa wasn’t a pretty sunflower or rose, no, not at all. He was an exotic orchid. The grace and elegance seemed to be swathed around him. It was intimidating, Iwazumi standing there for the first time felt unbelievably small for some reason. 

His robes were draped just so, dragging just slightly across his chambers floors. At first sight Iwazumi had thought of those strange blue birds, peacock or some kind of pheasant-with their ornate tails dragging, preening with a high head because they just knew how beautiful they were and that’s exactly how Oikawa was perched. Swirls of silk flowed around him as he lounged in the room expectantly, lazily a manicured hand cradled a delicate face as almond colored irises examined the new guard before him.

“Hello handsome, here to become my knight in shining armor?”

With that one comment the overbearing sense of inadequacy disappeared. 

“How about your executioner.”

And that’s how Iwazumi came to meet the crown prince who definitely was not a hostage but just an annoying needy guest that they kept lock up in the tower.   
A routine established itself over the next few days. One of filing papers and transcribing between reluctantly carrying food upstairs, because inevitably he’d just have to carry it back down to get the picky eater something else to eat, and then banging his head in once his day was over only to repeat it all the next.

The tray gave a rattle as it was placed down on a nearby crate, one that had been hastily tossed next to the door just for this purpose after the first day because how else was he to unlock the door? Hell, how had anyone done that before he dragged the thing up here? 

After pocketing the key though he didn’t open the door, something other passing guards had given him confused glances for especially when he always then proceeded to kick it twice as he picked up the tray. Prisoner, prince, house guest, no matter who it was he just felt bad marching in their like he owned the place-because he certainly didn’t have anywhere near enough money to own even a door in the castle. So, Iwazumi always knocked. He could give the captured man at least that much. 

His ears could pick up movement on the other side, yet it remained as it was. With a scowl the kick repeated itself a bit harsher than the first time because lord forbid his highness ever move in a rush.

“Oi, asswipe, hurry it up.” 

The plates rattled as they did the door hinges, a creak muffling out an impatient huff as the room was revealed along with it’s occupant. 

“Oh Iwa, you were running late for our dinner date! I was starting to think you had stood me up.” 

A cheeky smile beamed itself downward and while admittedly it wasn’t the worst thing look at Iwazumi would never admit it aloud. Instead he opted for planting an elbow into a soft abdomen as he entered and causing a dramatic whine to be released before the door shut.

“Such a brute Iwa, do they not teach you manners in this kingdom?” 

“Says the one who attacked someone on his first week here,” the tone wasn’t angry, it was amused if anything. Ignoring the protests from behind him he continued on with his task and began to unpack the covered dishes across the table while the taller man rambled on. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that stabbing your captors went against hostage ettiqutte. How silly of me!” 

“Your food is going to get cold, and I’d hardly call it a stab-a dinner fork isn’t that lethal.” 

An offended gasp went out and he could only imagine the long winded sermon he was about to receive for insulting his feeble assault on a previous guard. 

“I could have-” “But you didn’t. Will you sit already?” 

“So pushy tonight,” despite the grumble the man took his seat anyways across from Iwazumi, “So what have you brought me tonight? Poisoned potatoes? Soured salmon? Killer kababs?” 

“For the last time we’re not going to poison you.” Regardless of his statement Iwazumi picked up the fork, just as he did every meal, and began to take random bites from the uncovered platters. He tried his best to not show any tears of joy as the spiced lamb hit his tongue, or the roasted fingerling and vegetable, the barracks never got food this good.   
Only after a bite of everything had been tasted, possibly twice just incase, did he hand over the fork. 

“You know, in my country using the same cup or silverware as someone is considered an indirect kiss.” 

“Yeah and in mine it’s considered polite to not tear apart fine silk linens to make a lameass attempt of a rope.” 

“Hey! If I only had a couple more sheets I could’ve gotten out of here.” 

“Yeah? And then what?” 

“I’d escape!” 

“That wouldn’t happen. I’d track you down and kill you myself for all the shit you’ve put me through first and I’m sure some others are in line as well.”

It was true, many of the workers were not a fan of the man. Discourteous, rude, brash, arrogant, boisterous, loud, aloof, demanding-words upon words could be pulled and flung around a dinner table over grumbles almost every night downstairs.

Iwazumi never found himself competing to find the most eloquent negative word, despite how he may speak to Oikawa. Instead when he was asked of his opinion he merely paused and said one simple word after a pause. 

Different. 

He was different in how despite his flamboyant gestures with speaking he still managed to trip over the air itself half the time. The arrogance people spoke of was different than other nobles in that it never came from his family name, only over expertise on astronomy and other miscellaneous studies he must’ve occupied his time with before his captivity.   
The routine dinner rejects were in fact aggravating, but within a week the motive behind what seemed to be a picky eater had revealed itself rather obviously. 

“Oh come now Mr. Soldier, I highly doubt they serve you anything this fancy in the barracks.”  
A tantalizing slice of meat swirled in the air, Oikawa giving his signature lazy grin from his chair as he waved his fork around.

“I told you before, I don’t need your scraps,” despite the bite in Iwazumi’s tone his mouth told another story. It was already salivating looking at the roasted pheasant nestled among the other dishes that crowded the prince’s table for the night. Each day this week it seemed as if the number of delicacies only grew in number while Iwazumi’s will power shrank. 

“Clearly not given the size of those biceps”  
A roll of eyes deflected the flirtatious wink that was cast at him. Loudly a dinning chair scrapped against the floors as the prince used one foot to easily kick it out. 

“Indulge me, or are you that desperate to rejoin your meatheaded comrades for the seventh night in a row? Can’t I sway you? Just once?”

Iwazumi almost told him to fuck off, almost, but the words stopped themselves. Just for a moment the playboy smirk that was sat before him faltered. Eyes cracked, a gaze of uneasiness, and a slight twitch of his upper lip. 

Because at that moment it wasn’t a command from the crown prince. It was a request. A request from a man who had been trapped in this room for several months in enemy territory. Weeks upon weeks of not having any interaction outside of whatever guard was bringing him his meals and escorted maids to do the housekeeping was all he had to look forward to. 

So, with a grunt Iwazumi had sat in the offered chair. Oikawa’s expression switched to one of genuine surprise just as quickly as Iwazumi had snatched up the loaf of soft white bread and torn off a section. 

“Don’t act so shocked when you’re the one that offered-now hurry up and eat something before I get my ass reemed out for wasting the chefs time to get you this.”  
New banter quickly followed, as well as a slight nudge to Iwazumi’s boot. The slightest of taps was exchanged between worn leather and embroidered silk. A hidden thank you and your welcome. 

Sharing meals became a routine occurrence from that point on. As Iwazumi’s assignment on princess duty grew longer so did the length of their conversations. Things had started choppy, a bit awkward, but with time carefully guarded walls began to fall. Because as they broke their bread together royalty and war didn’t matter, they were merely Tooru and Hajime gossiping over if the newest maid was in love with the stable boy. 

It was easy in those moments to forget about everything, all the problems that existed outside of the room. The reminder would always come though, a maid knocking on the door to collect dishes to be brought back to the kitchen, the roles of prince and soldier thrown back on in a scurry of as they charaded what their relationship should appear as. 

Relationship. 

That was a word Iwazumi hadn’t necessarily considered but he couldn’t deny that it applied in some sense. 

His time with Oikawa had not been small at this point. Iwazumi found himself up in that tower almost as much as the prince himself. If Hanamaki or Matsukawa noticed his absence late in the evening or other hours of the day they never said anything other than perhaps a shared look. Going unchecked only encouraged the pair to spend even further time together beyond what would be deemed necessary. It was with that time that their status from acquaintances grew into something deeper, something closer.

Oikawa taught Iwazumi of his homeland, rambling on about the music and food. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go on long tangents about the most obscure facts, a symptom of home sickness most likely. Iwazumi fell into the habit of nodding, asking a question here and there, but mostly he just listened. It was pleasant to hear the other man speak, how animated he could get when describing past memories. His recollections were always entertaining at the very least. Only on one occasion Oikawa had halted midlecture with a look of disdain. 

In a lazy roll of the neck Iwazumi looked to see what had made the man shut up, because he never did shut up, and was perplexed to see a series of crinkles running up Oikawa’s nose. A disgusted glaze coated his caramel irises with arms paused in mid gesture. 

“And so, what did Suga do?”

“Should I be telling you this? Is this even-this isn’t a good idea.” 

“It’s not like I’m going to track down the old ambassador and tell him. And was it a good idea for you and Sugawara to sneak into his chambers to play a prank? Probably not, but considering you were both, like, seven and-“ “That’s not what I meant.”

Iwazumi blinked once. 

Twice. 

He sat up from the chaise carefully eyeing the prince. They had merely been trading stories of their childhood, nothing serious or political. 

“I mean, you’re the enemy and here I am prattling on about things like-just, the people, the people I care about like you’re not a soldier. As if we’re-we’re, you know! And I...”  
The quick hand gestures that had erupted smoldered out into a nasty scowl. Embroidered shoes dug themselves down in a rapid circular pace and carried out a pattern until an overly patched boot stuck itself outward. 

As a result the usual tower of elegance went down in a tanglement of silk robes and curses. Iwazumi offering no help to address the mess he had made other than to whack his heel down onto Oikawa’s back. 

“Quit being a dumbass.”

“You are going to break my back! My royal blooded back!”

“The only thing I’m going to break is your neck, Brattykawa,” despite the insult Iwazumi removed his foot. Oikawa made no motion to rise however, he only opted to roll over to his back and to pillow his head with his fingers. 

“So mean, Iwa! What would your captain say if he found out-“ “I’m not going to hurt Suga. Or that red haired kid, or Takeru and Shimizu, ok? No one is.”

Silence seeped by, and without a response Iwazumi spread his legs to peer downwards. 

“Nothing you’ve told me has ever left this room and it never will. Not to my captain, a maid-anyone, and it’s going to stay that way. So breathe. Just because I’m a soldier in opposite colors that doesn’t mean I like to see bloodshed.”

When Iwazumi held his gaze for a moment, unblinking or waivering, ever so slowly a nod was given. 

Then a cocky grin had pushed itself forward with a teasing tone, “I quite enjoy having you above me, Iwa.”

From there things resumed to normal but a new door had been opened. One that had Iwazumi slipping into the tower at late hours of the night after a bad day. Oikawa never complained to waking up to the clack of keys at odd hours so the trend continued. If anything he encouraged it. 

Excitedly, he’d hop up wrap the two in the bed furs so they could sit by the lone window. With innocent wonder Tooru would use his own hand to guide Iwazumi’s eyes to locate the ever roaming constellations of night, whispering out the tales of how the stars got arranged and how he wished one day he’d amaze the gods enough to end up in the sky.   
On the cloudy nights the fire was stoked. Shadows would dance along the ceiling as the two would pick out odd shapes and animals until they grew board. 

It was under this protection of night that words seemed to come a little easier. In hushed tones past demons and current fears slipped out among the shadows. There was never laughter on these nights, and the smiles were never of the joyful variety. Only because of the protection the dark of night provided did Oikawa find the courage to at last ask why Iwazumi was a soldier, to see how someone who had such disdain for war and bloodshed could have enlisted in one of the most violent kingdoms.

Over dinner, or any other meal, the conversation would have never been started. That kind of talk, the kind that was serious and couldn’t be joked about, wasn’t allowed while the sun was out. With just the fire glowing the story flowed from Iwazumi’s lips with ease. 

It wasn’t that uncommon of a story to begin with, many of the soldiers in the barracks had a similar background. He had been around five when the farm burned, where that plot of land even sat on a map he had no idea. All he had was the vague memories of his mother, his father he couldn’t even picture. Caught in the crosshairs of some war the soldiers had come, ruining any supplies that others may loot. From there he was taken, given the option of working as a runner on the front lines or inevitable death.   
Oikawa had asked why, why he remained loyal to a country he was abducted into-why he stayed on as a soldier who was enlisted against his will. Iwazumi only shrugged because what else was there for him. 

He had no blood that he knew of, the men he slept next to on thin cots were his family now. Once upon a time they all used to fantasize about leaving, but where would any of them go? With age came the realization that the army was a meal ticket, it wasn’t ideal by any means but there was a roof over their heads, clothes on their back, and food no matter how inedible it seemed at some points. 

The conversation seemed to angle itself into some rambling speech of justification even though Oikawa hadn’t questioned him about his life choices once. Words began a repetitive stutter, twisting off into stories of things Iwazumi didn’t mind doing like running drills or scouting. A never ending list of things that weren’t bad, because it wasn’t all bad. It wasn’t all war, all fights, all death. From there he seemingly pushed himself too far, throat choking as images ran through his mind without consent. Memories of dried blood, the stench of filth and corpses, the suffocating greasy smell that burnt flesh left in the air and clung to everything. 

No other words were said after that simply because no other words could be said. Instead soft pale fingers clasped tightly onto rough scarred ones, both pairs of eyes on the fire until it snuffed itself out and they faded into sleep.

The two never really discussed what happened that night, but when a hand clasped Iwazumi’s tunic the next night as he was about to leave with a silent question he immediately nodded.

And nodded. And nodded. Again and again he stayed through the night up in that tower.

He may have joked it was only because Oikawa had the nicest bed in the fort, but how easily he fell into the practice of combing through Oikawa’s hair on the nights he cried for his home spoke of another reason entirely. 

It was because of all those nights that Iwazumi found his thighs screaming as he ran up the six flights of stairs. For the first time he didn’t bother knocking on the tower door. It slammed heavily into the stone wall, the hinges screeching in protest at the unusual speed of which it was flung.

“You’re leaving,” panting out of breath with aching legs he nearly keeled onto the door as he shut it behind him. 

A slender eyebrow popped itself up. Poised and elegant Oikawa sipped on his tea, “Finally taking me up on my offer of running off into the sunset with me, Iwa?”

On most days Iwazumi would have had no problem quipping back something without even a thought, but today he only shook his head as he sucked more air back into his lungs.  
“I just heard from Makki-he’s been stationed in the ravenry this week, they just agreed. The ambassadors, the peace talks are going to start next month on neutral ground and-and you’re going. Obviously. You’ll leave in a caravan next week. You’re going home, Tooru.”

Porcelain shattered across the table, Iwazumi was too busy being smothered underneath silk and a faint peach scent to even worry about cleaning up the mess. Instead he clapped his arms over Oikawa just as the man had done to him. Together their torsos swayed under the force of which they clung to one another, bodies teetering as they found a grounded balance woven together.

“Home? I’m going home, I’m really-you better not be lying to me Iwa or I swear that I’ll-“ 

Lightly a finger flicked the prince’s ear before over his neck, “Give me some fucking credit, I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Neither had any inclination to release the other. Oikawa continued to sniffle into a shoulder and Iwazumi just carded his fingers through silky hair repeatedly. It was a soothing gesture, one to calm the adrenaline that he could only imagine was coursing through the other man right now.

“I can’t believe I’m finally leaving.”

It was that one sentence that it finally clicked in Iwazumi’s head. 

Tooru was leaving.

Iwazumi was not.

Of course Tooru had to leave, he knew that the inevitable day would come-he was a prince for fuck sake. He knew how much he hated being in this room anyways, he was happy for his friend. He got to go home. To see his friends, family, Tooru was finally going to get on with his life outside of this tower. A life without war, without the stresses of negotiations, without Iwazumi.

He wanted to be happy for him, and he was on some level, but that didn’t seem to stop the growing ache in the bottom of his stomach. No matter how much Iwazumi tried to beat it down it seemed to only grow.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the hair tugging, but are you ok Iwa?”

In a rush of embarrassment he released the clump of hair he had woven a fist around. Arms dropped in an attempt to step away but Oikawa wasn’t having it, his arms only tightened to keep him right where he was.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong-“ “Yes there is.”

“No there isn’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No-“ “Why don’t you just tell me and make it easier on yourself, hm?”

He knew Oikawa had a point. The man had a borderline insane amount of stubbornness, if he chose to dig his heels in over this there was going to be no escape for Iwazumi. At least not a painless one.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about how quiet it’s going to be around here without your loud mouth.”

Now Oikawa had several tutors growing up, a majority of them dedicated to speaking to him in another language which resulted in the prince being fluent in several different languages as well as regional dialects, he hardly needed a royal tutor though to translate the Iwanese for ‘I’ll miss you’.   
“Aw, you were thinking about missing me? How out of character and sweet of you Iwa-“ “I take it back, I’m not going to miss you at all.”

“Well I should think not.”

“Isn’t it too early for self depreciation jokes, Shittykawa?”

In a well practiced dramatic gasp Oikawa reeled back to released him. In mock offense he plastered on a mask of scandal, “Yet here you are butchering my beautiful family name-one of pure blue blood that’s been passed down for centuries!”

“Isn’t blue blood just rich people talk for inbred?”

Snickers escaped Iwazumi as Oikawa gave him a rather fish like gape of a stare in utter shock.

“Rude!” Long fingers attempted to flick the shorter man but were easily deflected with a swat, “Mean Iwa! I changed my mind, stay here and miss me-mourn my presence!”

“What?”

“You heard me! Languish for eternity in this stuffy castle and think of what could’ve been had you not angered the great crown prince, you could’ve traveled with me but instead you’ll be stuck eating that horrible pheasant-“ “You want me to go with you?”

The faux outrage simmered away, a tinge of pink crawling out from under an embroidered silk neckline that enclosed around a clearing throat. 

“Well, someone obviously has to continue testing my food for poison-and the caravan on the way here was so dull. No one would even speak to me-“ “You were taken prisoner, and didn’t you try to strangle one of the scouts with a belt?” 

“AHEM, as I was saying commoner. I humbly command that you and your finest men accompany me to the peace summit, if there are no objections that is.”

“I don’t think humble and command belong together in the same sentence, let alone coming from you.”

“Stay here and rot then for all I care! I’ll just have-“ “Yes.”

Oikawa’s neck almost snapped from impact with how fast he whipped it around.

“Yes?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll go with you. Besides, I should’ve known I couldn’t get rid of you that easily,” coughing Iwazumi attempted to rub away the red that was growing on the tips of his ears, “Besides, someone has to stop you from hurting yourself constantly with your half assed escape plans.”

Iwazumi had been reluctant to climb up those stairs, he had lost a bet afterall. But there was none of that hesitation when they set out in a week, nothing held him back as he marched out to join the convoy and left the old building behind him. He may get a headache listening to the complaints about how uncomfortable the inside of the carriage was, or blow a blood vessel in his temple given that Hannamaki had taken a liking to the prince and fueled his antics, but even so Iwazumi knew he wouldn’t have any regrets.

Not one.


End file.
